


telling the story of tonight

by algae_dad



Series: Hamilton High School AU [4]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Trials, vague Law& Order SVU crossover???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 23:16:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8179465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/algae_dad/pseuds/algae_dad
Summary: After the initial hype of the investigation, and after Maria Romero and James Reynolds were taken into custody (Maria making bail, and James… Not.), everyone grew intimately familiar with the act of waiting.(takes place after didn't say no)[ABANDONED]





	

Alex can't feel his hands.  
He actually can't remember a time where he _could_ feel them; before this essay, after the hurricane. Definitely after the hurricane, that was almost two years ago, but it's raining now and his hands are shaking just like they did then, just like they did on his mother's body (was that before the hurricane? It was, wasn't it?).  
Some part of him screams that he's just in his room, that if he called for Mrs. Washington she could tell him that, but that part is being drowned out by the all too real screams of someone, won't someone help them? Why are they screaming is it the hurricane—  
"Alex, Alex, baby; it's alright, it's alright. Please stop screaming," Oh. He shuts his mouth and the noise stops. "Good, baby, that's great. Now take a deep breath, and when you breath out I want you to tell me where you are right now."

In, out, “M-my desk? My r-room? B-but the rain—”

Mrs. Washington put her hands lightly on his shoulders. “There is a storm Alex, but it’s not a hurricane. Jack, Laf and Eliza are all here sleeping downstairs and Dad-sorry, George is out on his teaching retreat.” She watched as her foster-son tried blearily to process the information. It either clicked or he gave up, walking over to his bed and falling back into the still not-quite familiar sheets.

Knowing a sign to end the conversation when she saw one, Martha made to leave, but was stopped by an unsure voice. “Could you… Could you stay, for a bit?”

As Martha sat on the edge of the bed, she hoped for the day Alex would learn that he didn’t have to ask.

* * *

 

After the initial hype of the investigation, and after Maria Romero and James Reynolds were taken into custody (Maria making bail, and James… Not.), everyone grew intimately familiar with the act of waiting. The earliest court date was mid-September, which gave Alex two long months of _recovery_ , which meant a lot more talking about _pasts_ and _coping_ , despite his suggestions that maybe, just maybe, the coping method of writing and writing and writing that had worked for him for the past 15 years could work just as well for this.

This.

The rape. Some part of Alexander could admit that maybe the talking was helping because now he could say it without flinching. His therapist did actually let him write when things became too difficult, or phrase things with the more. Flowery language he tended to when describing something difficult. She also let him not communicate at all, something that he initially found rather odd.

His first few meetings with her, he refused to speak. The Washingtons made an appointment without his approval, though they did let him choose from a list of therapists; he selected the least-horrible option. After the first hour-long session in which no words were uttered, Alex expected that she’d give up on him, that his fosters would switch him to someone else, but the next week it went the same. And the next.

The fourth week, Alex broke: “Why do you keep seeing me?”

She looked taken aback by his voice, but quickly regained her composure. “Why should I stop?”

Her question only irritated him more, and his voice grew in volume, “Because I’ve been wasting your time! I haven’t said a word since we started, I’ve just sat here taking up space; why are you still here? Why do you still _care?_ ”

“I’ll ask you again: why shouldn’t I? So far, you haven—”

“ _Because I don’t deserve it!_ I’m dirty and useless and everyone gives up on me so I just want to know. _Why?_ ” His voice broke on the last word, and it was clear to both in the room that he wasn’t just asking why she hadn’t stopped seeing him. She let him recollect himself, exaggerating her breaths so that he could match them, and offering him a water that he pointedly declined.

“So,” she began, and Alex half-heartedly made note that the appointment was only halfway over, “why do I stay? Why am I helping you?

“Because you _do_ deserve it.”

* * *

 

Sleepovers with much of his “squad” had become a regular effort to break up the monotony, and any chance to see John and Eliza was one he was more than willing to take. He said as much to Mr. Washington while driving to pick them up, completely forgetting he hadn’t revealed the nature of their relationship to either of his fosters.

“Oh?” Washington responded, try to seem only casually interested, “And why’s that? Why John and Eliza, specifically?”

Alex snorted, “Well for one, I don’t get to kiss Herc and La-shit. Shit shit shit shit!” he practically crawled up his seat, as if literally going backwards could help him backtrack over his monumental fuck-up.

George had to calmly explain that it was quite alright; Alex had already told them he was seeing Eliza, and the two in question had come to him to explain their polyamorous relationship, figuring for once that Alex probably didn’t have the words.

He did have the words to ream them for not telling him what had happened, but John’s explanation shut him up quickly:

“Try explaining that you’re dating someone to not just their father, but _your_ school teacher who you’ve known since you were twelve, and tell me you would want to relive that experience.”

As Alex drifted to sleep with his mother’s… His Martha’s hand stroking his hair, he was secure in the knowledge that his friend and lovers were there, as always, to guide him through the storm.

**Author's Note:**

> at this point I should just stop promising updates.  
> Second verse, same as the first: busy with school and mental health issues, but this series is not abandoned! This story will take us through the trial and the start of Alex's recovery.  
> Now, an important note: I'm trying to choose a history badass lady to make Alex's therapist: I was thinking Lucy Flucker Knox, but she was only a year older than Ham in real life, so idk if I can alter the ages in a way I'm happy with. Please give suggestions if you can!


End file.
